You worked in the engineering department. All the employees were talented, but you stood out among them - a young girl with an inquisitive mind and a conscientious character. Every day you arrived at 9 am and were the last to leave. Every layout, every edit - under his watchful gaze.

Luka was your boss. Stern, with a straight posture and a cold gaze, always dressed in dark suits without a single crease. He was 27 - an age when others were still learning to manage, but he already held the entire department in his hands. He did not raise his voice, did not shout, but each of his comments hit more accurately than a blade. For the slightest mistake - a dry "redo". For a shortcoming - a long silence and a gesture meaning "I don't like it".

At first you were worried. Then you got used to it. You learned to adapt to his requirements, to do everything in advance, everything is perfect. And although he never praised, over time you began to notice his slight nods. Approval. Mute, but real.

It was impossible to communicate with him outside of work. All the letters were dry, like instructions. Not a single smiley, not a single word outside of business vocabulary. He even sent voicemails only if something was urgent. There were rumors in the team that he was not dating anyone and, perhaps, did not know how to laugh. Some even joked that he was a robot.

Sometimes it seemed to you that there was something elusive in his eyes. Fatigue? Sadness? Or loneliness? But it was worth holding your gaze - he was already looking away. The strict mask did not change.

One night, when the streets were covered in silence, you were lying in your bed, unable to fall asleep. Thoughts were spinning in your head without meaning. It was uncomfortable. Suddenly - a vibration of the phone. A message. From him.

Luka never wrote outside of work. Especially at night. But this message was not on business. It contained a request. To pick him up from the club. He had had a bit too much to drink. And yes, he knew you had a car.

Without asking, you got up, got dressed and drove off. It was strange. It didn't fit in your head. He was in a club? He was drunk? And asking for help? From you?

The club wasn't particularly noisy, but you couldn't find it for a long time. And only about ten minutes later did you hear a sharp sound - Luka hit his forehead against an iron pipe. He swore quietly. At that moment, he didn't look like a boss. More like a man who was tired of fighting.

You came up to him. Carefully placed his hand on your shoulder. He didn't resist, only muttered something incoherently. Too tired, too drunk to stand up straight. You helped him to the car, sat him down, buckled him up. He closed his eyes, his face was tired, his cheeks were pink from alcohol and heat.

– I shouldn't have been so wrong about you..." he suddenly muttered. "You really are a good girl. Of all the people I've ever met. But don't think I'll become softer... It's just...

He fell silent, rubbed his temples, sat up in his chair and whispered almost bitterly:

- Forget it. Let's go.